<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑭𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 T͠ʜ͠ᴇ ͠L͠ɪ͠ᴠ͠ɪ͠ɴ͠ɢ ͠J͠ᴀ͠ɢ͠ᴜ͠ᴀ͠ʀ by Caffedalmare</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673811">𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑭𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 T͠ʜ͠ᴇ ͠L͠ɪ͠ᴠ͠ɪ͠ɴ͠ɢ ͠J͠ᴀ͠ɢ͠ᴜ͠ᴀ͠ʀ</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffedalmare/pseuds/Caffedalmare'>Caffedalmare</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 14:55:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673811</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffedalmare/pseuds/Caffedalmare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Musings of the Living Jaguar.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑭𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 T͠ʜ͠ᴇ ͠L͠ɪ͠ᴠ͠ɪ͠ɴ͠ɢ ͠J͠ᴀ͠ɢ͠ᴜ͠ᴀ͠ʀ</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ripples formed over the water's surface before the upper half of Grimmjow's body arose from within. Small splashes hit the floor after being spilled from the tub the Panther Espada was in. He inhaled deep, combing his wet hair back, then released a sigh; how he ached for this moment. To be finally in solitude and with his thoughts. Resting his back against the edge of the bath, his electric blue hues roamed through the room. It was partially destroyed... definately messy. Hueco Mundo was indeed a mess after he and the rest of the surviving Espadas returned to the wasted lands. Las Noches was less than an echo of its majesty upon the desert plains. Without their presence, other Hollows and Vasto Lorde tried to take over the palace; any order created was disappearing. But that was an easy affair to handle compared to all previous events leading to the war he'd battle alongside the man he dubbed as his sworn enemy...</p>
<p>Grimmjow lifted his arm and observed it. Soon it morphed to dark claws with ease. He had changed since then... Since his last encounter with Ichigo Kurosaki, where he tasted defeat for the very first time. After recovering from his injuries the Panther King dedicated his time to train, increasing his strength and abilities. There was much room to improve still, but he was willing to continue. That was his mistake that first time; taking his new powers as Arrancar and position as an Espada as enough.</p>
<p>He had changed since then.</p>
<p>Feeling his muscles had relaxed enough, he shifted his arm back to normal and stepped out of the tub. He approached his clothes and began to dress.</p>
<p>                                      ° ° °<br/>"Knock, knock, Grimm-kun! I brought your new outfit and your jacket all patched up!," the man in the hat said in his annoying voice that made the Panther Espada gringe.</p>
<p>Grimmjow stood from his bed and snatched the clothes from the blond's grip, "Leave," he said in his usual gruff voice then turned away.</p>
<p>Kisuke made a childish pout but lingered nonetheless. He observed how the Arrancar studied his new outfit, "Quite a different intake from your usual attire," he waited for a reaction from Grimmjow but got none, so he proceeded, "Good for you! New beginnings, new goals, new ideals, new friends, new--"</p>
<p>"Shut the fuck up already!"</p>
<p>Kisuke stepped a bit back, "Grumpy still though," he muttered with a small grin, "But I do like your new outfit. Fitting for the War upon us. Simple. Dark. Almost resembling the colors of Shini--"</p>
<p>"Ya done here!!"<br/>                                     ° ° °</p>
<p>Grimmjow buckled his belts loosely and hooked his Zanpakuto on them. He zipped his top up, covering his Hollow hole, yet left his scars exposed. They were his battle trophies, testaments of his unyielding will to succumb to an eternal and definite end. They were the promises of scores yet to be settled.</p>
<p>Then the Espada picked up his jacket, the one given to him when he was born into an Arrancar. That's who he was. He was not a Shinigami and never will be. But during his lifetime as a Hollow two foreign entities had tried to take over and rule over them: Aizen and then the Sternritter. The first manipulated all of them, the latter tried to annihilate them. Grimmjow had enough and vowed to never allow that to happen again.</p>
<p>The Panther King put on his jacket and headed out of his quarters. His walked over debris and still his steps echoed down the halls. He was no Shinigami but he found something to protect; he lost so much throughout his journey, but gain other things in return.A new Era was upon Hueco Mundo where none other than the Hollows had a say in it; how it always should be.</p>
<p>As a man who lived by the philosophy of Survival of the Fittest, Grimmjow would make sure that whenever the word Hueco Mundo was heard, all the realms of Soul Society would respect it, fear it, and think twice before touching his home.</p>
<p>͠F͠ɪ͠ɴ͠.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>